


Wind in their sails

by m_findlow



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:41:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25064812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m_findlow/pseuds/m_findlow
Summary: Jack and Gray are racing for glory.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4
Collections: fic_promptly Fills 2016





	Wind in their sails

The wind ripped through Jack's hair and clawed at his face. He didn't care. The wind wasn't his opposition today. Today they would partner up and take on the world together.

This must be what it feels like to fly, he thought, as the tiny kite racer zipped over the flat sands along the shoreline.

'Faster!' Gray yelled at him, clinging to Jack for dear life. Jack wasn't worried that his little brother might fall off. He and Gray had done this a hundred times, just ready for this moment.

It was the Boeshane annual kite race, and this year he and Gray were determined to win. They'd spent countless hours working on their racer, tightening the wheels and pulleys that turned its front axle, adding a sturdy back panel so that both of them had space to ride, without making it unnecessarily heavy. Even the kite itself had been a huge endeavour, having saved up what little coin they had for a length of fine new sail that their mother had helped sew into the right shape, and adding stronger woven ropes to better control it.

They'd made endless practice runs, fine tuning the cart and coordinating their efforts to lean their weight into turns, reducing as much drag and resistance as possible. When finally they were satisfied that she was as good as she could be, there was only one thing left to add, a flag to mark their trail as they blazed across the berm. All the competitors had flags with their various symbols, some had stars or comets, others serpents and crowns, and one even featured a Volcorn lion roaring on a field of red and green. Their chosen sigil was that of a local wild bird that inhabited the nearby bush scrub, golden on a blue background. It was flightless but quick as lightning, darting across the dunes at phenomenal speeds. No one they knew had ever successfully caught one. It was the perfect symbol for their featherweight kite. And today it was that flag that was going to cross the finish line first.

They'd already overtaken at least a dozen other kite racers, and had a good mile and a half of beach left to catch the other four ahead of them. Most were locals but some had travelled light years to their tiny colony world to participate. The strong wind was carrying the cheers of the crowds at the finish line to their ears, adding to the excitement.

Jack pulled the kite's strings tight, banking left and caught the perfect gust of breeze that filled their sail and launched them forward, sand disappearing underneath them in a blur. For a moment, the wind in their sail was so strong that Jack thought the kite might tear from his grip altogether, but a second pair of hands appeared from behind him, adding more grip. As Jack heard Gray squealing with delight at their speed, he let his own cries of excitement join his brother's.


End file.
